Let Her Cry
by dumbmonkeygirl
Summary: Another depressing C and M. Enjoy! - chapter 7 up
1. Default Chapter

Let her Cry

Right! Having finished 'Boyfriend Material'   I thought I'd start a new fic to distract myself from writing 'Tears' This one is quite depressing so if you are suicidal you might want to go and read something a little more cheerful because I don't want to be responsible for any jumps off any buildings J

Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or the song 'Let her cry' (Hootie and the Blowfish) which (as you can see) I have stolen to be the title of my fic.

Authors note: Okay here's the deal. Something (it will be revealed later) caused a big upset in the group around a year after Mon and Chan got married. Monica was so upset that she disappeared. The gang believed she had committed suicide, until now….

Chicago 2005 (Chandler is there on a business trip)

 Chandler nudged his way through the crowd, trying to get to the bar for a much needed drink. People pushed and jostled around him, they were packed tightly against his body, their loud voices surrounding him. With a dull sense of recognition he began to felt a familiar pain rising in his chest. Trying to swallow it down Chandler turned around and fought to escape both the crowd and his panic attack. The room swirled and the darkness began to seep into his mind. As he fell to the floor the last thing he saw, as usual, was an imprinted memory of Monica's  face. 

The first thing Chandler felt as he opened his eyes was the familiar sense of heartache. As a crowd of strange faces came into focus, his heart broke, like it did every morning, at the realisation that his darling Monica was never coming back. Groggily he scrambled to his feet, voices all around him echoed their concern in his ears but he didn't care, all he wanted to do was to go outside and let the fresh air brush against his cheeks as he cried the pain away.

Stumbling, he found the door and pushed it open. Rain lashed down on his head, mixing with the tears that were already falling. With his chest heaving, he leant on a nearby wall for support. Chandler stared into the distance not seeing a thing and wondered how it had got this bad. How could his happy life have turned so sour? He knew the answer, Monica. It was her fault that he could no longer go out in public without making a fool of himself, it was her fault he was a broken man. And yet he still loved her with all his heart.

As the rain soaked through his jacked and ran in rivulets down his body Chandler began to focus on his surroundings. One grubby wall faded into another, the light of a solitary lamppost glowing eerily of the brick façade. Standing beneath the cold glow of the lamppost was a forlorn figure. A lonely silhouette, waiting for nothing. 

Chandler smiled to himself ruefully and hailed a waiting cab.  Shutting the door quietly he told the driver the address of his hotel and looked out blankly though the sheets of rain . As they passed the lamppost, fate drew Chandler's eye's upwards.  What he saw before him was both his worst nightmare and best dream, the lonely figure was someone he knew, the lonely figure was Monica.

Chandler just sat and gaped, time seemed to freeze as the cab passed her by, she didn't even glance up. Only a pane of glass separated them but Chandler couldn't break the barrier of his own pain. He watched her face, beautiful in her heartache, as it faded away to be stored in his memory as a dream of a ghost.

With tears stinging his eyes Chandler reached in his pocket for the note he always carried with him, the note he had believed was her suicide note:

_Dear Friends,_

_I'm so sorry. Sorry for what I've done and sorry for what I'm about to do. I love you all so much. It is that love which makes this both easier and harder than anything I've ever had to do. I hope and pray that, with time, the wounds I have caused will heal. Goodbye forever._

_Love to you all_

_Monica_

_Chandler I love you more than I've ever loved anyone one else, don't blame yourself for my decision. I hope you will find some one who deserves you._

_My heart and soul belong to you_

_xxx Mon_

He had read the words a million times but they still cut like a knife straight to his heart. It was at that moment he realised his final chance was slipping away forever. Yelling at the driver to stop he practically fell out of the cab into the darkness.

" Monica…" he screamed, focusing on the angel bathed in light, praying that her blue eyes would recognise his.

TBC

What do you think? Should I continue depressing you all or should I not bother? Please give me feedback by clicking the little review button below.


	2. let her cry 2

Let Her Cry 2

Disclaimer: Friends does not belong to me, or any of you for that matter

Again, this is very angsty ( is that even a word?!!) So don't read if you mentally unstable, unless you are one of my crazy sisters (you know who you are!)

She knew it was Chandler. As soon as she heard his voice she knew it was him. Lifting her head up against the weight of the lashing rain she saw him walking towards her, his form shrouded by sheets of water. She wanted to run but she knew it was too late, she couldn't run away forever and she wouldn't try.

Chandler just wanted to touch her. He wanted to touch her skin, run his hands through her hair and kiss away the pain etched on her face. More than anything he wanted to prove he was not crazy, he wanted to touch her to prove she was not a figment of his imagination, to prove she was not a ghost.

He stopped just before he reached her, a thin sheet of glistening rain separating them. Their blue eyes locked, Monica saw her hurt mirrored in the eyes of the man she loved more than anything else in the world and began to cry, her tears running unchecked down her face. Chandler just stood still and let her cry; slowly his hands reached up and cupped her face. 

"Monica I love you so much," he whispered, breaking their mutual silence.

"I love you too," she replied and kissed his lips softly. He held onto her and deepened the kiss as his world came crashing down around him. He had thought she was dead, yet here she was wrapped tightly in his arms, her salty tears splashing his face as they kissed in the rain.

Monica couldn't believe that after all the years he was there, her mind felt detached from her body. She wanted to be wrapped in the kiss forever, wrapped safe in his arms and sent off to heaven where nothing hurt. Knowing she had to break the kiss to stop herself from drowning in her own feelings, she regretfully stepped away from him. 

"How did you find me?" She asked, running her fingers delicately over his face, memorising every detail, knowing that soon she would have to pull herself away from him forever.

"Fate." Chandler replied simply. And he believed, he said it and he believed it like nothing else he'd ever said in his life. He knew that fate had let them find each other again, just as he knew; deep inside, that her guilt would keep them apart.

She sighed; knowing what she was about to do would shatter him forever. Briefly she contemplated staying, briefly she wondered if they could work things out. But her guilt wouldn't let her, she didn't deserve him. Not after what she had done. She kissed him again, letting him know her hearts real desire then turned around and walked away into the enveloping darkness. Chandler ran to catch up with her but she continued to walk away, ignoring him.

"Don't just walk away Monica," Chandler pleaded, his heart breaking into a thousand smaller pieces. She stopped dead in her tracks and he continued,

"I've lost you once, don't make me loose you all over again, I don't think I could handle the pain."  Monica turned around slowly to face him,

"Chandler it's better for both of us if we pretended this never happened. You never saw me, it was your imagination playing tricks on you." She told him, her heart lurching in her chest as she spoke the words.

He shook his head, refusing to let her take the easy way out. " You know as well as I do that we both can't live with that. Look Mon, I know you were hurt. Hell I know you still are hurting. But let me soothe it. We can work through this. Someone up there obviously wanted us to have a second chance, don't let it slip through your fingers."

Monica stared into his childlike eyes. Their unblinking gaze hypnotised her.  She'd missed him so much it ached and here she was being offered a chance to change what she'd thought was history. She felt her steely resolve melting away into the rain, leaving her a trembling mass of emotions. He waited with baited breath, only allowing a small part of himself to believe she might change her mind. To give a larger portion away, in hope, would be fatal if she said no. 

She fidgeted with her fingers; she was being torn to pieces inside. Making her decision she lifted her face to Chandler's, smiled weakly at him and took his hand in her own. They were reunited. For the moment.

As they walked towards her apartment, fingers entwined, Chandler believed that maybe there could be a happy ending to their story. If only Monica could get over what she had done.

TBC

So what did Monica do? Go on, humour me, leave a review and take a guess


	3. Let her cry 3

Let Her Cry part 3

Thank y'all for reviewing and taking a guess, sadly none of you were right. Some of did get within spitting distance (ewww), whilst others (you know who you are!) didn't even try to get close, as this review shows….

'Oh, maybe Monica was really sleeping with Spakle Back Larry, and then she didn't want me to kick her ass so she ran away. That, or she got vomit stains on the furniture from drinking too much, although then she would have called aunt Courteney, and auntie would have told her how to get them out'

Sadly, nope. I'll consider that storyline for my next fic :)

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually read these? Does anyone actually care!

Authors Note: In this flashback Chan and Mon are pretty much newlyweds and Rach isn't pregnant. So what did Monica do? Lets find out…..

~* Flashback – 2002 *~

Chandler stood in the bedroom doorway, observing Monica silently as she nervously paced the kitchen. The beginning of a smile played at the corner of his lips. She looked so beautiful, dark strands of hair brushing tentatively against her face, cute wrinkles appearing when she scrunched up her nose.

Walking over, he gathered her in his arms and held her tightly,

"Relax Mon, it's just dinner with your parents and Ross," she sighed into his shoulder as he continued, 

"I mean what's the worst that could happen," he stopped for a second, "Other than your mom telling you that your Dad has been sleeping with the pool boy and has now run of to Vegas to star in a gay burlesque show."

Monica lifted her head and smiled wryly at Chandler,

"I know this seems crazy and neurotic and well, a little..…me. But whenever these dinners come around, I dread them cause I just know I'm gonna spend the whole evening being told how fantastic Ross is." She told him, biting her nails in anticipation of the evening ahead.

" Well he is a pretty neat guy," Chandler replied, barely able to repressive the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Uhhhh," Monica groaned in false annoyance, "Why do I even bother trying to have grown up conversations with you?!!"

" Because you love me," he stated simply, kissing her on the nose and then firmly on the lips,

"Seriously Mon," he continued, " What can your Mom possibly find to criticise? You look great, you have a great job, great friends and are in a great place in your life."

Monica smiled gratefully at him,

"Besides you're married to me!" Chandler added.

"And that'll give her enough ammunition for the whole evening" she stated teasingly, before playfully kissing him, grabbing her coat and heading out the door.

" Don't expect me to come home tonight in a good mood!" she warned him.

"Have Fun!" Chandler grinned at the already closed door.

Outside her parent's new house Monica nervously hopped from foot to foot, waiting for someone to open the door.

"Would you stop it Mon?" Ross asked, his breath hanging as crystallized fog in the cool winter's air, " You look as though you need to pee."

She turned around and gave him a death stare, " Well I'm sorry for bothering you, Mr Prince of everything"

Ross stood back, momentarily affronted. Seeing his face Monica apologised,

"Sorry Ross, it's just you know how much I hate these family dinners, I feel…"

She was interrupted as the front door creaked open.

"Hey," said Jack, observing how frozen his two children looked.

"Hey Dad," they both replied in unison, smiling identical smiles.

"Come on in out of the cold," he told them, opening the door further to allow them into the warm house.

Monica and Ross shed their coats and followed Jack into the spacious dining room. Monica looked around at the familiar furniture placed in a new setting, the lamp in the corner of the room casting ominous shadows on her figure as she moved. She peeked through the doorway into the adjoining living room,

"Nice house Dad." She complimented.

"Thanks sweetie, it was your Mom's choice." 

As if on cue Judy emerged from the kitchen,

"Hello darling," she said, pecking Ross on the cheek, then turning to Monica. She pecked her on the cheek then held her at arms length,

"You look pretty, Monica," Monica smiled warmly at this unexpected compliment, Judy continued, " But you would look so much better without that ghastly red lipstick" Monica sighed, unsurprised at her mother's return to form.

"Are you alright Monica?" Judy asked, noticing the sigh.

"I'm fine" she replied through a clenched smile knowing it was going to be a long night.

Later that evening, Monica sat, unconsciously twirling her uneaten food on its plate, as her parents listened to Ross' 'thrilling' stories on teaching. Her mother's voice cut through her absent daze,

"Monica dear, don't play with your food. It's unladylike."

Monica put her fork down testily and tried to join in the conversation,

"Chandler sends his love,"

"How is he? Is he treating our little harmonica well?" Jack asked, causing Monica to wince at the familiar and unwanted nickname. Non-the less she smiled at the comforting thought of Chandler and was about to answer when her mother cut her off,

"I was hoping he would have you pregnant by now."

Monica grimaced, "Well actually Mom we're not trying."

Sensing the warning tone in his sister's voice Ross tried to change the subject,

"So anyways, this student of mine…." But Judy continued,

"I mean Ross isn't even married and he has a son…"

Ross tried again, valiantly, "This student of mine said to me…" but this time it was Monica who cut him off, anger rising in her voice,

"Yes Ross isn't married and he has a son. But the mother of his son is a lesbian!"

"I was just making the point, I didn't mean anything of it dear," Judy told her daughter firmly. Monica ran her hands through her hair and made a decision. Standing up, she smiled wanly at her parents,

"I've had a very nice time," she thanked them, "But it's getting late, and Chandler will be waiting up, so me and Ross really should go."

Ross glanced at his watch, "Monica it's only 8.00," glaring at him she stood on his foot firmly. Swallowing down a yelp of pain he turned back to his parents,

"But yeah we really should go," Jack shot him a confused look,

"Man am I tired," he added, as an afterthought, accompanied by a long fake yawn. Judy looked dubious but rose and followed him out to the hallway where Monica was already fastening her coat. Jack trailed behind, looking anxiously out of the window,

"I don't know if leaving is such a good idea, it has started to snow pretty hard."

"It'll be fine Dad, " Monica reassured him, "We've really gotta go," she added, desperate to leave before she lost her temper.

"Well if you insist," said Jack as he leant forward and hugged Ross then Monica.

"Maybe you should let Ross drive, just to be safe." Monica rolled her eyes and remained silent. Glancing at her, Ross knew she was about to blow. Opening the door hurriedly, he bundled Monica out into the icy air and called behind him,

"Okay Mom, Dad thanks for having us. Love you. Bye," as he shut the door with a hollow crash.

Monica breathed a sigh of relief and turned to her brother gratefully,

"Thanks Ross"

"No problem sis." He replied, hugging her tightly. The wind blew strongly, it's icy blast chilling them to the bone and causing them to shiver. Ross looked at the snow falling around him

"You know Mom and Dad are right, it is snowing pretty hard, maybe I should drive."

Monica raised a sceptical eyebrow at him,

"Ross, if you drive we'll end up a moving snow drift cause we're going so slowly!"

"Hey now! Who's just saved your ass in there?"

"You did Ross, but I'm still driving. End of story. Sorry."

Ross shrugged his shoulder's resignedly and got into the Porsche,

"Just don't say I didn't warn you when you get your licence revoked for speeding!"

As they drove on, the snow lashed down more and more violently, perfectly formed flakes, driven by the wind, to come at them in sheets of pristine white. Ross peered through the windshield at the approaching wall of ice, and turned to Monica whose face was locked in concentration.

"Umm, Mon, maybe we should pull over."

Monica continued staring intently out of the windshield, " No Ross I'd rather just get home,"

"But Mon, you can' t possibly see more than 4 feet in front of you…"

"Drop it Ross, we'll be home within an hour. Besides the snow will probably stop soon anyways,"

Ross continued to gaze at the twisting and twirling flakes,

"I don't think so. Look Mon, you've had a hard day and I know you want to get home but this isn't safe,"

Sick of being criticised, her mother's nagging still ringing in her ears, Monica turned to Ross impatiently,

"Look Ross, will you just give it a break. I have…."

Ross however wasn't listening; he'd seen something emerging from the enveloping white curtain to the side of them,

"Oh my God! Monica! BRAKE! "

She whipped her head around violently as Ross grabbed the steering wheel, desperately trying to swerve the car. 

It was too late, a truck emerged out of the veil of snow and hit them sideways on. The car skidded out of control, the icy road offering no grip. Monica's screams rang through the air as the car span once, twice, three times. Then everything was silent, the only noise offered by the bitter wind blowing through the skeletal trees.

She opened her eyes slowly and painfully. The dull ache of sirens rang in her ears. Through their wails of confusion, disembodied voices came to her,

"We've gotta get them out of the car now, there's a gas leak and the thing could blow anytime."

"But we don't know the extent of their injuries, we risk causing serious back injuries if we move them now."

"That's a risk we're gonna have to take."

"Fine, but I'm not being held responsible for this decision."

Monica felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and begin to pull her out of the shattered window of the overturned car. Sharp shards of glass cut her arm spitefully, like little needles of pain. She turned her head towards Ross, causing  a sharp, searing flame to shoot through her body as a scream of pain in protest.

He was lying slumped forward, an arm bent under his head. There was a large dent in the passenger door where the truck had hit. He had been thrown sideways, causing a deep, angry gash on his forehead. Blood ran down his face like a small, slithering snake. His eyes were closed and Monica was struck with how innocent and peaceful he looked.

The voices around her were becoming louder and more frantic, the pair of arms around her were tugging more forcefully.

"We think there's a fire in the engine, boys!"

"GET THE WOMAN OUT! QUICKLY!!!"

"RUN!"

She felt herself being dragged across the frozen ground.

"She's gonna blow any second!!!"

"Run for your lives!"

"RUN!!"

Monica scrunched her face up against the raw heat of blast. The fire seemed to taunt and mock her. She watched, a remorseful tear rolling down her face, as the car and Ross' life went up in smoke. Laying her cheek against the cold snow, white against white, she closed her eyes. All she could see were flames.

TBC

Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Should I continue? Should I not bother? Should I get Phoebe to turn into a witch and resurrect Ross? Should I go find my crazy medicine?


	4. Let her cry 4

1 Let her cry chapter 4  
  
A/N Well I'm back again. This one jumps around a bit but don't hold that against me.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, which is a good thing cause if I did I wouldn't be able to afford food for them. Remember a friends character is for life, not just for Christmas!  
  
  
  
The fire, the screams, the grief, the remorse.  
  
Both Monica and Chandler could remember it as if the accident had happened yesterday. On they trudged in silence, their hands and hearts joined but their minds stumbling in the dark past.  
  
~* 2002 *~  
  
Chandler wandered around the apartment aimlessly. He was torn between waiting for Monica to return and going to bed after a long day. Sighing, he resigned himself to sleep and headed towards the bedroom but was stopped in his tracks by the shrill ringing of the phone. He smiled to himself and lifted the receiver, fully expecting to hear Monica's warm voice on the other side assuring him that she would be returning soon.  
  
"Hello….yes this is Mr Bing speaking…..yes she's my wife…..look I don't understand what you're saying"  
  
The voice on the other end of the phone rasped harshly in his ear but his mind had gone blank. The only thing he could hear were the cruel words that were going to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life,  
  
" I'm sorry Mr Bing, you're wife has been in a car accident"  
  
A wave of fear washed through his body and a strangled sob escaped his throat. Still the voice continued to drone,  
  
"She's in intensive care right now, we'd like you to come down to the hospital and help us clarify a couple of things. Mr Bing….Hello….Mr Bing."  
  
Chandler forced himself to snap out of his blank reverie. Swallowing down the tart panic rising in his throat, the phone to dropped from his limp hand, he grabbed his coat and ran unseeingly out of the apartment. The phone swung lifelessly, emitting a high unearthly shriek into the now eerily still apartment.  
  
Hours later he sat at her bedside quietly weeping. Ross was dead, his wife was in intensive care, life had never appeared bleaker. Silently he laid his head down on her knees and cried the night away.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
The water continued to cascade around Chandler and Monica's huddled forms as they walked on under the spotlight of the glaring street lamps. Monica's tears were now flowing freely, the salty drops mixing with the cleansing rain. She looked up at Chandler and saw in his eyes the same look of shadowed hope that she had seen as she had woken up in her cold hospital bed so many years ago.  
  
~*~  
  
Monica's eyes slowly flickered open then scrunched up against the searing fluorescent light that surrounded her. Her throat felt dry and her voice sounded ragged and hollow in her ears,  
  
"Chandler?" she whispered to the form bent over her body. His head snapped up immediately, his hand tightening it's grip around hers,  
  
"Oh my God Monica, you're awake!" Tentatively he reached forward and brushed a dark strand of hair from her pallid face, "I'll go get a nurse." He told her as he got up onto his unsteady feet.  
  
"No," she pleaded in hushed tones, "Please stay."  
  
Chandler sighed and sat back down. There were millions of thoughts racing around his head. Millions of things he wanted to tell her, yet not one of them would come out. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he couldn't say anything, he was too overcome with feelings beyond relief that she had woken up, relief that he had not lost her forever to death. Slowly he leant forward and in a choked, barely audible voice spoke into her ear.  
  
"You've gotta know babe, no one blames you for this. I love you so much, I'm so glad you're awake. Never leave me again."  
  
~*~  
  
Monica remembered those words with perfect and bitter clarity. He may not have blamed her but she blamed herself. The accident had been the turning point in her life, the point at which days began to stretch out before her in an endless parade of guilt and anger. Not even the strength of Chandler's love had been able to save her from her own torturous feelings, feelings that had driven her life and their love into the ground.  
  
~*~  
  
" Will you just leave me alone!" Monica screamed at him as she ran into the bedroom and tried, unsuccessfully, to shut the door in his face.  
  
" Monica, you have to go. For God's sake it's your brother's memorial service! They waited until you were out of hospital to have it, you have to go!" Chandler pleaded as he took in her sobbing form stretched out on the bed.  
  
" No I don't," came her muffled response, "I don't want to and I don't have to. I'm sure Ross wouldn't appreciate my presence there."  
  
Chandler sat down gently on the side of the bed and stroked her back, flinching with regret as she shied away from his touch. He had tried, repeatedly, since Monica had returned from the hospital to break through the layers of guilt she had built around herself. Yet his efforts had, so far, been in vain.  
  
" Monica listen to me," she shook her head into the damp pillow, " No one, I repeat NO ONE blames you for Ross' death…"  
  
"But if I had just…"  
  
"BUT nothing Monica. It was an accident. And I know you miss him, we all do,"  
  
he stopped and drew a shaky breath, " but you can't hide behind this guilt forever. Your gonna just have to accept that Ross is dead,"  
  
"I know he's dead! I was there! It was my fault!!!" she screamed back at him, she wanted to slap him for being so callous.  
  
Chandler held her struggling head firmly and looked into her eyes,  
  
"Don't do this to yourself Mon. Fight it, I'll help you. But don't DON'T believe this is your fault cause it will eat you alive."  
  
Her tears were streaming unchecked onto his hands, " I can't fight it Chandler cause I know it's true. I killed Ross!"  
  
Chandler groaned in exasperation, " Will you listen to yourself? This is not you, my Monica would never say this."  
  
"Your Monica has changed." She said, pealing his hands away from her face and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.  
  
Chandler sat down on the bed heavily and buried his head in his hands. He couldn't take this much longer, the angry fights were tearing him apart. In the few weeks that Monica had been back home he felt like he was living with a stranger. The woman he loved was being destroyed by her own emotions and he could do nothing but watch helplessly. He felt like a failure as a husband, try as he might he couldn't get through to her. She wouldn't allow herself to grieve, a huge barrier of guilt stood between her and all her friends.  
  
Chandler got up slowly and wearily then left the apartment, headed for Phoebe's where the gang were waiting for him and the absent Monica. As he closed the door behind him he spoke into the ominous silence.  
  
" Don't do this to yourself Mon, don't do this to us. I love you so much but I don't know how much longer I can fight this for you."  
  
Little did he know, he wouldn't have to. Monica had made her decision. She knew what she was doing to Chandler, she felt his pain as acutely as her own, yet she couldn't let herself stop it. He was right, the guilt was eating her up inside but she didn't have the strength to stay and stop it. She felt like leaving was the only way out, both for her and Chandler. That night she packed her bags and walked out of his life for what she had thought would be a heartbreaking forever  
  
TBC  
  
Please leave a review and motivate me to write more. PLEASE!!! 


	5. Let her cry 5

Let Her Cry Part 5

Disclaimer: I do not own them because I don't have a big enough box to keep them in.

A/N I'm back. I've actually had this written for a LONG time, but I'm a lazy fat ass and couldn't be bothered to post it. One more thing, this part is more NC-17 but I didn't want to change the rating for the whole series. Besides ff.net has screwed me over with it's new (well not so new anymore) default ratings settings anyway.  
  
They walked on in mutual silence for what seemed like eternity. The sound off the rain blended with the pattering of their feet to create subdued percussion in the charged atmosphere. The grey walls faded into one another, colours blended into nothing as the bitterness of lost love and the desperation of hope walked hand in hand through the night.  
Finally Monica halted in front of a towering apartment block. To Chandler it looked just the same as the others, dull and neglected. The paint on the door was cracking and peeling away in violent red shards, the ground floor windows were shattered, and lurid graffiti decorated the walls. She turned to him, her frame shadowed in the doorway  
  
" So I guess you're coming in then?"   
  
" I guess so," he agreed, knowing full well that it had been a statement not a question.  
  
He followed her up the winding, narrow stairs to her apartment. Up, up, up. Finally she stopped outside of a nondescript grey door. Her keys jangled in the lock for a moment then she pushed the door open, stepping aside to let Chandler in. The gasp that escaped his lips was loud and drawn out.   
  
This was not a place the Monica he had know would even have considered living in. Damp spread up the walls, speckling the grey paint with patches of rot and mould. Old Chinese boxes and beer cans were spread haphazardly over the deflated sofa. A dim light bulb swung aimlessly above them and cardboard boxes were piled up against the wall, left unpacked.   
  
"Well…." Chandler started, trailing off with nothing to say.  
"Well" Monica repeated in a whisper  
  
Chandler cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake off the awkwardness that had enveloped them. He had so many questions he needed answered, but he was scared. Before the accident he would have found it comfortable to talk to Monica, now he felt like he was standing precariously close to the edge of a cliff and if he said the wrong thing she'd push him off. It hurt him so much to admit it, but in reality she was a stranger to him. She looked the same, her beauty still took his breath away yet he knew that inside she was a completely different woman. Her life had changed, she had changed with it.  
  
" So, this is more difficult than it should be" spoke Monica into the silence, surprising them both with her honesty  
  
" Well what did you expect, a walk in the park?" snapped back Chandler, surprising them both with his anger.   
  
He saw the flash of pain mixed with panic cross her face and regretted his words immediately. But he couldn't let her off so easily, a small, and carefully buried part of him was resurfacing. He swallowed down his anger, his feelings of relief at finding her out weighing the bitter note in his heart that was asking him why he was so grateful. After all, she was the one that left, she was the one that had broken his heart.  
  
Seeing the anger written clearly on his face, Monica had turned around and disappeared into the dingy kitchen, Chandler followed her through, stepping over more piles of cardboard boxes on the way. She pulled a bottle of beer out of the barely below room temperature fridge, popped the cap and handed it to him with a timid smile. She knew he was hurting inside. If he couldn't read her she could still read him like a book, she always had been able to. The look he was giving her, his eyes filled with remorse tinged with hope and anger, was making her fall apart inside. He looked so confused, Monica couldn't blame him, she knew she owed him a lot of answers but she didn't know many of them herself. After she had left she had tried to ignore the questions, to ignore the pain of knowing she had left love in the past. Yet sometimes in the darkness and clarity of night she knew all she wanted to do was to curl up in Chandlers arms to cry away her fear and guilt. All she wanted to do was to allow herself to love.  
  
And now here he was, no longer a night time dream but reality, standing in front of her, sipping on his beer. She reached up her hand and brushed his cheek gently. Slowly she leant forward and kissed him, timidly at first but with building passion as she became more confident that he wouldn't push her away. Chandler moaned deeply as he felt her thumbs caress his cheeks and her tongue slowly enter his mouth. He wanted so much to make love to her right there and then, to touch her, taste her, please her. It had been so long, too long but his head was telling him he needed to wait longer, he grabbed onto the only sensible thought circling his mind and reluctantly pushed her away.  
  
"Chandler…" she breathed heavily, moving in to kiss him again. Chandler put his hands firmly on her shoulders and took a step back.  
  
"We can't Monica"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Why not? The question hung in the air tempting him,  
  
"We can't because we need to talk," he stuttered, sounding unconvincing even to himself.  
  
Monica knew he was right but she couldn't help herself, she couldn't fight what every nerve in her body was telling her was right. She wanted him now. Knowing he had very little, if any real resolve she moved closer, placing her mouth right against his ear,  
  
"I don't think talking is what you really want to be doing right now…"  
  
Chandler groaned inwardly, she was intoxicating. Her scent was in his nostrils, the image of her naked body was in his mind as he closed his eyes. The thought that her smooth skin was just inches away from his finger tips was driving him insane.   
  
"make love to me Chandler," she blew into his ear, sucking teasingly on his earlobe  
  
He just nodded yes, he was completely broken. Grabbing her by the waist he pressed his lips roughly against hers. He needed validation, he needed to know she was still his. His hands moved up from her waist into her hair, running smoothly through the raven strands then round to her front, cupping her breasts, rubbing her taut nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. As their urgency increased they became less and less gentle with each other. Chandler pushed Monica roughly against the fridge, she gasped as he thrust forward, his erection pressing against her stomach. She pulled at the button on his pants, desperate to touch him. In the meantime he had gone to work on her shirt, pulling it off her shoulders and flinging it carelessly behind him, he quickly unhooked her bra and began to bite down on her nipples.  
  
"Oh god Chandler," groaned Monica momentarily distracted from undoing his pants. He took over, hastily pushing his pants down to his ankles.  
  
"Fuck me Chandler, fuck me now," she begged, feverishly placing kisses up and down his neck whilst running her hands up and down his still clothed chest. Chandler just grunted, instinct taking over. He pushed her skirt up to her waist, lifted her legs up around his side and positioned himself outside her entrance. Teasingly he just stopped, the tip of his erect penis probing but not penetrating her. Monica growled in frustration and grabbed him, forcing him into her and making him nearly loose his balance. Regaining his composure he laid his head on her shoulder and began to push in and out of her. He tried to be slow but she was meeting his thrusts with urgency, encouraging him to go faster and faster. He moved his hands up from her stomach and placed them on either side of her head and he began to pound in and out of her. Monica gasped and threw her head back, crying out loudly at every thrust. It had never been like this before, so desperate and raw, it had never been so heated yet devoid of real emotion. As Chandler came close, he pulled Monica's face to his and kissed her slowly and deeply. Her lips on his, their velvet smooth caresses, pushed him over the edge. He came hard, triggering her orgasm to shake through her spent body. They shook together, sharing each other's pleasure.   
  
Gradually their bodies stood still and their steady breathing became the only sound in the heated silence of the apartment.  
  
"Lets go to bed," Monica finally whispered, reluctant to break the peculiar mood that enveloped them. Chandler nodded and let her lead him to the bedroom, knowing he wouldn't be getting the chance to talk, or sleep, tonight.  
  
TBC


	6. Let Her Cry 6

Let Her Cry 6 

Wow I never ever thought I'd go back to this, but here I am about half a year later. Fashionably late :p This chapter is dedicated to Pammy whose great review, that I got this morning, motivated to write this again, and to Ez and Sarah my sweetie pies.

Disclaimer; I don't own the friends characters or the last line of the fic which is from This is Yesterday – Manic Street Preachers *takes her filthy mitts off them*

AU: You might wanna go re read the rest of this fic cause it's been such a long time since this has been updated that even I had to ;)

Diluted sunlight fought it's way slowly through the dusty air of Monica's room as the long night passed on into the day, but the 2 figures who lay in her bed remained asleep. Wrapped around one another in a possessive embrace, their bodies entwined as though their limbs would never let go.

Chandler floated serenely in the space between sleep and waking, his face dappled with morning light, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 'I'm with Monica' floated slowly through his mind, he was determined to catch the wisps of that thought as he woke, catch them and make them real. Too many times he'd been taunted with dreams of Monica, dreams that had seemed so real but had been blown away like smoke by the harsh light of day. But this dream was different; something had shifted so that the wisps of dream now seemed like solid fragments of truth. As Chandler awoke, his mind struggling out of sleep to grasp onto reality, his arms tightened and grasped onto Monica, for so many years his dream, his torment, now finally his reality. 

He wanted to catch the morning and suspend it in time, suspend it high above the problems he knew they would soon have to talk about, the doubts he had shoved to the back of his mind in return for being able to hold and love her again for a night. He buried his face in her neck and started to nibble delicately at the soft skin causing Monica to slowly open watery eyes.

"Morning Sweetheart," he whispered softly into her ear.

"Morning," she mumbled in return, sitting up and pulling the sheets around her body, trying desperately to make sense of the incredible situation she found herself in. Monica could remember certain parts of the night before with sharp clarity, seeing Chandler standing desperately shielded in rain, inviting him into her apartment, initiating sex with a certainty she hadn't felt for a long time. Yet other parts of the night just jumbled together into a teaming mass of emotions, a teaming mess of emotions.

She felt fear mix with the permanent shard of guilt that seemed to have lodged itself in her heart. She could in no way say she enjoyed her life as it was now, but she did enjoy the security of the routine she had fallen into. Her routine allowed her to turn her emotions off, to view her life from behind her eyes as merely a spectator sport, something that she no longer fully participated in. With Chandler's reappearance long sedated feelings were awakening and she didn't know if she could deal with them. But she wanted more than anything to be able to, to be able to keep Chandler in what had become of her life. As he pushed her gently back down onto the bed she gripped on, as if for dear life. As they made love she imagined he was the only thing keeping her from drowning in the sea of her newly awakened emotions.

They lay in each other's arms afterwards, breathing in and out rhythmically, trying to both envelop and break the silence that hung in the air of the room like a fog. Neither one wanted to speak, neither wanted to break the pretence of normalcy that the silence offered, but both knew that if they wanted this new, strange flower of a relationship that had blossomed to live they had to face the questions that their old life together left lingering.

"We needed to talk" they both intoned at the same time. Monica laughed nervously into Chandler's chest and the silence dropped onto them again. Chandler was now waking up from his pretend reality with Monica. Yes she was here, with him, but things were not perfect, he was still filled with grief and anger at her leaving, and now these feelings were rising to the surface, dangerously near his mouth, where they could say something he would later regret. However he felt about Monica, he knew one thing, he was going to do everything in his power to make her stay with him, he simply couldn't stand loosing her again. Removing his hands from around her, as though that would allow him to order his thoughts more clearly Chandler grabbed his boxers, put them on and walked to the other side of the room, distancing himself as best he could in preparation for the conversation ahead. Taking a deep breath he took the plunge,

" Why did you leave Mon?" 

'Trust him to go for the most complicated question first' thought Monica to herself, the question that not only she didn't know the answer to, but the question she had forced herself not to think about in fear that it would drive her mad.

" I don't know," she answered simply with a small shrug.

" I don't know," repeated Chandler, rolling the words around on his tongue. They produced a bitter taste in his mouth, " So let me get this right Mon, you left me, after 4 years, left me thinking you were dead, left me wishing I was dead and you don't even know why?!!" He struggled to keep his voice down, he didn't want to let the conversation get out of control, he had too many thoughts spiralling around his head to take that chance.

" I don't know," she echoed in a small voice. Snapping her head up she looked him in the eyes, "But I do know that I never ever wanted to hurt you Chandler. That's why partly why I left," she sighed to herself, and smiled a sarcastic smile, " So I guess I do know. I……I…I just wanted an escape, I _want_ an escape. I just want to be free…." She stopped herself abruptly and her head fell back down, her hair shielding her face.

Chandler stood and watched her impassively. He wanted so much to just hold her, but holding her wasn't going to magically erase all their problems, no matter how much he wanted it to.

"This is so surreal" Chandler observed, " Here I am sitting with my 'dead' wife," Monica winced, "and things are so different, _we_ are so different yet my feelings towards you are just the same. Monica I love you so much, despite all the differences and that, in some ways, is the hardest thing to deal with" 

He stood upright and wandered around the room, chuckling as he noticed the pile of old clothing in the corner, 

" Okay I take that back, the hardest thing to deal with is that you've turned out to be messy after all." 

'Okay Chandler' he thought to himself, 'you haven't changed that much, you still pull out the same defense mechanism, still make jokes at totally inappropriate times.' But Monica seemed to appreciate the momentary lapse in tension; she stopped picking at the sheets with her fingernail and managed to look at him again,

" I don't know Chandler, you'd be surprised,"

' Yeah,' she added as an after thought to herself, 'you'd be surprised to see what a mess my whole life has become' 

Chandler sat back down next to her on the bed and placed an arm around her shoulders, deciding to leave the unanswerable questions for now, to leave the important questions and just pick away at the little things in the hope that one-day he would be able to reach the core of the matter, be able to answer the 'why?' 

" Tell me why I'd be surprised, what's your new life like? Surely it can't be that bad," Monica raised a sceptical eyebrow, " I said _that_ bad"

"Well, umm, where do I begin?" Monica stuttered, 'Where do you begin? At the fact that you have no friends?  Or the fact that you live your life completely inside your own head? Or the fact that you effectively have no life at all without him?'

" How's about what do you work as?" Chandler smiled encouragingly down at her. Monica felt like she was being patronised, but then again she figured he had the right to treat her whatever way he felt fit.

"Well I work at the bar down the road from here as a waitress. It's a dump, but it's better than being unemployed." Again she drove the conversation to a halt. Absentmindedly she started twirling her wedding ring on her finger. The glint of gold caught Chandler's eye and reminded him of the last question he wanted to ask but the first one he needed an answer for.

" Mon, do you……I mean are you…do you have a boyfriend?" he held his breath in anticipation for the answer.  Monica shook her head in an emphatic no

" Of course not, I could never, I mean, I would never do that to you."

"And yet you would walk out on me," Chandler whispered, his voice heavy with sadness not accusation. Monica chose to ignore his comment, chose not to deal with it, and instead changed the subject to marginally safer grounds,

" How are the rest of the gang? Do you still see them?" 

"Yeah, well I see Phoebe and Joey, they got married and now have this gorgeous little girl called Lily, she did the cutest thing the other day…"

"Chandler," Monica cut him off, glad that Phoebe and Joey had managed to move on but more concerned with the absence of Rachel in his answer, " What about Rach? How is she?"

" She's.." Chandler sighed, not wanting to tell Monica about how none of them had seen Rachel for 3 years, not since she had moved to LA, vowing to never come back because New York held too many unhappy memories of lost friends and lost loves, " She's…gone. I we haven't seen her in 3 years, she decided to move to LA," he reached for Monica's hand and squeezed gently, " California dreaming I guess," being met with silence he continued, " I don't know, she took the death of Ross very hard, almost as hard as……" he trailed off noticing Monica was staring doggedly at a spot on the wall, he knew her well enough to know she was trying her hardest to fight down tears. " Well she took it hard."

Monica spoke up, her voice small and cracked, sounding unsteady and unsure of itself,

" I miss her, I miss you, I miss everyone so much," 

She turned her head and laid her cheek on Chandler's bare chest. She felt like the cracks in her mind were beginning to open again, like she was made of very thin glass, glass that was cracked and damaged, glass that if she wasn't careful would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Thousands of tiny fragments of herself, fragments that would cut everyone around her when she broke.

Chandler stroked her dark hair carefully, as if he was aware of her delicacy, aware of her fragile mind.

" Come back to New York with me Mon. Please, we can't live without each other, not properly, you know that. Come back home sweetie."

She just nodded. They both knew they had many questions to answer, many issues to solve but a feeling of hope hung in the air around them. Hope mingled with unspoken words, answers and promises that neither of them could bring themselves to say.

'Do not listen to a word I say, just listen to what I can keep silent' 

TBC

I'm pleading with you all, if you have a heart please review!


	7. Let Her Cry 7

Let Her Cry 7  
  
A/N For my incredibly slow working rate I'm quite proud that I managed to write this relatively quickly ;) I've gotta say thanks to Ez and Sarah (again ;)) for this one cause their amazing writing inspired me to kick my ass into gear. Go read Ez's fic 'Reality is wrong' and Sarah's fic 'Shattered' (in the Scream section) now or I'll kick your collective ass! Oh you better run!!! :p  
  
Disclaimer: I own them all MWHAHAHA *sits and waits to see if anything bad will happen now she's said that* Oh and also the quote at the bottom is from Mrs Potter's Lullaby - Counting Crows. I wish I could lie and say I owned that too but I could never lay claim to such genius ;)  
  
Chandler could feel her nervously tugging at his fingers as they stepped out of the taxi to face an apartment block Monica hadn't seen for many years. Chandler glanced over at her as he pulled their luggage out from behind the worn taxi seats. She was stood motionless gazing blankly at the building. Her eyes were fixed on the present but it was clear her mind was trawling through the past. He let go of her hand briefly to pay the taxi driver and she immediately began twisting her wedding band round her finger, a nervous habit Chandler had noticed a lot in the past week. A week that had turned both their worlds upside down, inside out and back to front, to a happier past. They had spent time talking and laughing, kissing and love making, trying to make the days before they returned to New York fade into one another in a blissful pretence of normalcy. But the underlying tension that inhabited their strange relationship had not dissipated, notching up to fever pitch as the day for return came closer. They both knew it was there, and acknowledged it in silence. The tightening tension drew them together in unity; the sparks it caused wrapped them tight in intense love. They embraced it tentatively, but they were both afraid of the breaking point. When the tension broke would their unstable relationship break too? Coughing gently Chandler interrupted Monica's reverie. Shaking her head, as if to clear it of wisps of memory she smiled reassuringly at him. He was nervous; she could tell that by the way he was shuffling his feet, staring down at his shoes intently whilst he thrust his hands deeply into his pockets. She was incredibly nervous as well but she knew that this time she had to take the lead. She had been the one to leave; she had to be the one to take the difficult steps to returning. Afraid that she would just turn away and take the easy route back out of his life if she stood around for much longer, she picked up her bag and strode with false bravado into the building, leaving Chandler to follow behind. She shuffled up the stairs one by one, her bag banging against her leg uncomfortably as she followed the stairs up and up. " I'll take it if you want," Chandler's voice floated up from a few steps behind. " No it's okay," she reassured him, turning around to flash him a gentle smile, " It's really not that heavy." It wasn't, clothes and photos were it's only contents. Monica found it ironic that she could pack the life she had tried so hard to fool herself with into one bag. It had all been a mirage that she'd built up in order to try and forget, a mirage that had folded in on itself when challenged. None of it had belonged to her, the apartment in Chicago, the waitress job, the few friendly acquaintances, they were not hers. All she owned from her life in Chicago was a few worthless material possessions and photos of the very past she'd been trying to forget. Chandler watched from behind as she reached their floor and turned the corner to stand in front of their door. It looked just the same as ever, the paint was becoming faded a little but the light still glinted annoyingly off the brass 20. Her shoulders clenched together as she took a deep breath and reached to push the door open.it didn't budge. "Yeah Mon you might want to try unlocking it first," Chandler chuckled from behind her. Her shoulders started to shake a little as she harshly exhaled, laughter on her breath. As the absurdity of the situation struck her Monica began to laugh out loud, she felt ridiculous for letting herself get so worked up over simply opening a door. The more she thought about it, the more hysterical she became, having to brace her hands against the door as she bent over double with laughter. Chandler stood behind her looking perplexed, " Okay, come on, what's so funny?" he asked, keen to be let in on the joke. Monica stood up, wiping her eyes and grinned at him, " It's just since when the hell did you start locking the door?!!" She spluttered, and bent over again, holding her waist in an attempt to ward off the laughter pains. Chandler squinted at her uncertainly, unsure whether he should laugh along or call the psychiatrist now. She looked up at him pleadingly through her laughter and suddenly he understood, this was her way of dealing with the enormity of what she was about to do. His mouth curled up at the corner and soon his whole face had broken out in a smile. Monica had managed to stand up but as soon as he caught her eye she was off again, her peals of laughter ringing through the hallway begging him to join in. He laughed, letting his fears, doubts and anxieties ebb away as he held onto her and shook. Giggling she reached into his pocket for the key and turned to unlock the door. It swung open slowly, revealing the apartment to be practically the same as when she had left years ago. Her magnets remained in perfect place on the fridge; the big white dog was still out on the balcony, their wedding photo stayed on the wall as she had left it, their happy faces grinning back at her. Monica, still in the throes of laughter, barely turned round to take it all in, she didn't dare. Instead she turned to Chandler who was staring at her expectantly and flung her arms around his neck. " Let's celebrate," she grinned as she pulled his face towards hers for a long kiss. He kissed her eagerly, taking her good mood on face value, just wanting to enjoy the moment. He kissed his way delicately from her mouth along her cheekbone to her ear " Welcome home," he whispered as he pushed her into their bedroom.  
  
Hours later Monica lay under Chandler, gently stroking his back as he slept, his breath coming evenly and warm against her cheek. Try as she might she couldn't sleep, her mind was too full of the day's events and emotions to relax and let her drift off. It alerted her to every chink of light that escaped through the blinds, every police siren from below their window, every dog bark. Resigning herself to a sleepless night she sighed in frustration and disentangled herself from Chandler's embrace. Pulling Chandlers t-shirt from the floor up and over her head, Monica wrapped her arms around herself and wandered into the living room, hoping to find some comfort in the familiar surroundings. The night sky cast midnight shadows across the room, making it seem alive and markedly less cheerful than it had that afternoon. She ran a hand through her hair and went to sit down next to the window, trying to merge into one with the murky shapes that surrounded her. Finding no solace in watching clouds chase each across the bleak sky she turned round slowly to face the apartment. This time her eyes lingered over each little detail, taking everything in, trying to absorb it all and burn it's image into her mind to replace the memories that were now awakening. Through the darkness she could almost taste the bittersweet moments. Her senses were going into overdrive; her mind was dragging up long forgotten conversations. She could hear the voices as clearly as if it were yesterday.  
  
'Welcome to the real world, it sucks, you're gonna love it'  
  
' I can't believe you hated me,' ' Now I love you, and not just cause I have to'  
  
' I love her okay, I'm in love with her,' ' I can't believe it my best friend and my sister!'  
  
'Monica will you marry me?' 'Yes, oh yes'  
  
'No one, I repeat no ONE blames you for Ross's death'  
  
' Don't do this to yourself Mon. Fight it, I'll help you. But don't DON'T believe this is your fault cause it will eat you alive.'  
  
'Will you listen to yourself? This is not you, my Monica would never say this.' 'Your Monica has changed'  
  
Your Monica has changed. The words clung around her, an unwanted truth, stripping away the lies she had wrapped herself in. She had changed, she was different now, she didn't belong here. She felt like a stranger sitting in her own living room, she was felt like she was damaging herself and everything around her by being here. The picture was distorted and she knew it. Placing her head on her knees she allowed the mask to slip, her previous mirth faded as the tears dripped through her fingertips. She cried through the night, with only her memories to keep her company.  
  
'And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings'  
  
TBC  
  
Bloody hell this fic is gonna have me warped by the time I'm finished ;) To keep just a little of my sanity in tact I beg you all PLEASE REVIEW. 


End file.
